Repossession
by TheRebelFlower
Summary: What if that sea captain found Henri again...?


Repossession (PG)

A Liberty's Kids fanfiction

By

Isabelle Saucier

isauciervideotron.ca

Disclaimer: The Liberty's Kids characters are the property of DiC Entertainment. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to infringe any rights.

The day was gorgeous. Perhaps a trifle hot, but gorgeous nevertheless. Sarah Phillips walked in the market, basket in hand, looking for some items for the evening meal. As she paid for some little pouches of spices, the merchant asked her: "Where is that little scoundrel of yours?"

The young woman laughed heartily as she looked around. "Henri? Probably running away from some trouble somewhere." She raised her eyebrows. "He's supposed to be assisting me."

"I see."

Both women looked at each other and laughed. "Here, honey," the merchant said as she handed her her spices.

"Thank you kindly. Now, to find…"

Sarah was interrupted by a shout on her left. Both women turned around only to see Henri Lefebvre running toward them. Sarah saw the little boy's terrified face and knew something was very wrong. Henri was used to run away from trouble, but he did so with a smile. This time, it was different. He was scared of something; and he confirmed her strong suspicions by unceremoniously running behind her to apparently hide from someone. "Henri, what is going on?" she asked, trying to pry his clenched fists from her skirt.

"Help me!" he wailed. "He's after me!"

"Who is?"

The little boy gave a startled gasp, seeing his pursuer, then dove behind the merchant's stand, where he crouched, silent. Sarah looked at the merchant, confused, then toward the general direction Henri had come from. A large, burly man emerged from the crowd, obviously on the lookout for something or someone. He was dressed in somewhat dirty sailor clothes, but even if they were dirty, one could see he was an officer, perhaps a first mate or even a captain. "What have you done now?" Sarah asked in a low voice, moving to hide Henri almost instinctively.

She watched as the man purposefully walked toward her with a grim expression on his face, praying he was actually going to walk past her. He did not. "I'm looking for a street rat, about this tall," he put his hand at chest level, showing more or less Henri's size, "and I saw him run this way. Where is he?"

Sarah took an offended, English-lady-ish expression. "Sir, I most certainly have no idea of what you are talking about," she replied, her haughty tone hiding her apprehension.

The man was larger than she thought, and by the smell of it, probably half-drunk. She felt very uncomfortable, but was able to hide the fact behind an almost disdainful mask. "_James would be proud of me,_" she thought.

"I saw him come this way!" the man insisted.

"I was buying spices from this good lady. I have no time or particular taste to look for street rabble. Please, sir, take your search elsewhere. Your quarry is obviously not here," she took some merchandise on the table as if to inspect it.

The man turned his attention toward the merchant, who, obviously afraid, unwillingly darted her eyes toward Henri's pitiful hiding place. Apparently, the sailor was not drunk enough not to notice and brutally shoved Sarah aside—despite her best protestations—to uncover and drag the poor boy from behind the table. "Unhand him right now!" the young woman exclaimed with the most authority her comparatively small frame could muster.

"I thought you had not seen him?" the man began, but Henri wiggled desperately around and managed to escape his grasp.

He ran back behind Sarah, trembling in fear. Oddly, this made Sarah, more angry than afraid. "I don't see anything he could have done to justify such anger, sir. He is a child!"

"And who are you to judge this, missy? I own the scoundrel and he ran away. I just want him back. So if you'll step aside…"

She understood everything in a flash. A sailor who "owned" Henri? She became angrier. "How dare you sir! This is not a head of cattle, but a little boy!"

Her voice had raised substantially and people were beginning to look at them. The sailor moved toward Henri, but Sarah blocked him. "Have you even a proof of what you are absurdly claiming?" she asked, her British accent adding a note of contempt to her tone of voice.

"I don't have anything to justify any of my actions to you, girlie!" he claimed in a threatening voice, before moving forward again.

Sarah felt Henri recoil in fear behind her, and she had to make an effort not to back up herself. "I will call security. You are assaulting me!" she threatened, her face livid, yet determined.

The merchant was already motioning to a guardsman nearby to come over. "What seems to be the problem, good woman?" the guardsman asked as he approached the stand. "Miss Phillips?" he added, recognizing the young journalist.

Sarah did not recognize the guardsman personally, but thought he knew her because of the Pennsylvania Gazette. "_Well, I would be crazy not to take advantage of this,_" she thought, then said aloud: "Good sir, I am being rudely assaulted by this gentleman, and only wish that he leaves me alone."

The way she said "gentleman" clearly showed what she really thought of the sailor. The guardsman looked at the other man. "What do you have to say about this?" he asked, but his tone indicated that he was clearly in Sarah's favor.

"The kid is mine. I want him back," the sailor claimed.

"What kid?" the guardsman asked, and the other man pointed at Henri. "Him!"

"Most ridiculous, I would say. Moreover, if he actually owned anyone, he would have to prove it with paperwork of some sort, would he not?" Sarah wanted to turn around and hold Henri, but she wanted to keep an eye on the sailor at the same time.

"She's right. Do you have any proof of what you're saying?" the guardsman asked the sailor, knowing in advance that he would not be able to produce anything.

He had seen this little boy around Sarah Phillips or James Hiller before, and never with this stranger. If this man wanted to claim him, he had waited a few years too long. The sailor was furious. "This is outrageous!" he bellowed, ignoring the disapproving looks he received from the crowd of onlookers.

"No proof, no kid," the guardsman stated. "I will arrest you," he added when he saw that the sailor did not seem to back down.

The sailor and Sarah stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then the man mumbled "This isn't over, girlie!" before walking away, shoving onlookers aside as he went.

The young woman sighed in relief, looking at him leave. "I'll stay around for a while, miss," the guardsman said with an encouraging smile.

"Thank you ever so much," she replied in a soft voice, then turned around to hug Henri, who was still trembling.

She had never seen the little boy so scared and it stirred something in her she could not describe. She knew however that she did not want to see him like this ever again. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. He scared me and I looked down," the merchant began.

Sarah looked at the other woman and shook her head. She was not angry at her. "I feel so bad, lass. Were you done with your shopping for today? You'll need to fill your men's stomachs with a good supper tonight. What would you need? I'll get it for you. Here," she said, and handed Sarah her money back. "Don't worry about this. Marybeth!" she called to the woman on a nearby stand. "Give Miss Phillips a couple of your chickens, I'll pay you later! Nathaniel! Could you prepare her a nice bag of beans?"

"You don't have to do this," Sarah began protesting, but the merchant cut her off.

"Please. I feel really bad. Look at that poor heart… he's still terrified… here. Take this too. You can bake him a nice gingerbread!" she added, measuring some spices and giving her the bag.

"Thank you, good woman," Sarah said, then thanked every merchant who put something in her basket. "I believe we will go back to the Gazette now."

The merchant nodded understandingly. "I'll walk with you," the guardsman offered, and she accepted gladly, even if the print shop was not very far away.

The return home was silent, and Henri was still clinging to her, not making one sound. Sarah began preparing the evening meal right away once back at the print shop, and asked the little boy to help her, as much to keep him close as take his mind away from the sea captain. She was not sure of how to announce it to James and Moses, and, more importantly, she did not know whether to take the captain's threats seriously or not. A very important point to discuss with the two men, when Henri would not be around.

She was happy to see Henri relax slightly as they worked together, but he was silent most of the time. He surprised her at some point by hugging her and thanking her quietly, filling her with a motherly and protective burst of affection for him. If the captain ever came back, he would have to go through her first! "Do you think you would like a caramel sauce on the gingerbread?" she asked him.

Henri gave her a genuinely happy smile, then a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the kitchen to fetch more wood. Sarah watched him go, worried, then concentrated on the food she was preparing.

Dinner went relatively well, even if Henri was not as agitated and talkative as usual. Both James and Moses noticed, but Sarah silently told them it was better to wait until the little boy was not within hearing distance to talk about it. They were astounded as they learned about the unfortunate meeting Sarah and Henri had at the marketplace, not even suspecting the captain to find Henri again. "Well, Henri will stay around for a few days, it won't be difficult to follow him and make sure he's all right. We just have to be extra careful until we get more news that the captain has either left, or is still around," Moses said to them.

"And if you see him, come and get us. Don't handle him alone again," James told Sarah in a slightly patronizing tone, but somehow she knew he was really worried about the whole ordeal and she did not talk back.

They all went to bed, and Sarah could not help but check through Henri's bedroom door—he always left it ajar during the night—to see if he was sleeping.

She then went to her own room to prepare for the night, then, as she brushed her hair absently, went to her door and opened it slightly, both to try to let the hot air circulate in the house and to be closer to Henri if he needed her. She caught a movement across the hallway and saw James opening his door as well. They smiled at each other in silence for a few seconds, James' deep blue gaze showing hints of mischief. "Mother hen," he said in a low voice.

"Look's who's talking, pappy James," she replied in the same manner.

He winked at her, to which she replied by sticking her tongue at him, and the both went back into their respective rooms.

Henri slept good that night. And the night after. Although Sarah lowered her guard somewhat, she kept her door ajar to try to counter the summer heat. When the screams came, she heard them perfectly and sat upright in her bed. "Oh no," she groaned in a sad voice, then stood up and walked to the little boy's room.

Henri was sitting up in his bed, crying and sobbing. "My poor little man…" she said gently, sitting on his bed and opening her arms to him.

"I'm scared!" he wailed, burying his face in her chest.

She said nothing but embraced him, stroking his dark hair to calm him down. She looked up when she heard footsteps in the hallway. "What's with all the racket?" James asked as he stepped in, rubbing his eye with his fist.

He noticed Sarah sitting on the bed, her arms around the crying Henri and understood. "_Great,_" he thought, crouching before them, trying to ignore the twinge of unjustified jealousy going through him as he saw how comfortably Henri was nestled against Sarah's breasts. "It was only a dream, runt. He's not here," he said aloud in an attempt to comfort the little boy.

Henri opened his teary eye and looked at James, but said nothing and nuzzled against the young woman even more. Sarah leant her cheek on his head, then asked. "Would you want some water? James will go and fetch it for you."

James and Sarah's gazes met briefly, then the young man looked at Henri for an answer. The little boy nodded, then said: "Yes, please," in a soft voice.

James patted his arm reassuringly, then left the room to get some water from the pump. When he came back, he heard Sarah telling Henri about how hot it was outside, and that people had a hard time sleeping and it was making things worse. "It was horrible, Sarah, he put me in the hold and left me there, and I had done nothing wrong!" Henri explained.

"Of course you haven't. Here's your water," the young woman replied, as she saw James hand the glass over.

James remained standing in front of them for a little while, uncertain of what to do. He was impressed by Sarah's way of handling things. She seemed to know exactly how to react to calm Henri down and reassure him. Motherly instincts, he thought. The young woman looked at him as she rocked Henri back and forth. "Go back to bed," she told the blonde journalist in a very soft voice.

"You need rest too," he commented.

"Don't worry about me," came her reply.

He said nothing, but ruffled Henri's hair. Then, he turned back to leave and caught Sarah's long braid between his fingers and tugged on it gently, almost to remind her not to stay there too late. She smiled at him and shooed him out with her hand.

The following morning, James woke up with the firm intention of taking Henri's mind away from his nightmares. He thought of taking him fishing, or at least swimming if the day became too hot for the fish to bite.

He walked to the boy's room and opened the door, saying: "Hey runt! Get up, I'm taking you fish…"

His words died in his throat when he saw a sleepy, yet surprised red head rise up from the bed. He frowned in confusion as Sarah gently pulled away from the sleeping little boy and walked to the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked, a hint of scolding in his voice.

"He didn't want me to go," she answered, "I did not have the courage to leave."

She looked tired, and almost as pale as her white shift, he thought as he forced himself to only look at her face. Seeing her briefly by the moonlight last night had been one thing; this was indecent. And extremely tempting to look at. "Is it morning already?" she asked.

He smiled. "Usually, by this time, most of your morning chores are done and you have broken fast."

She winced. "I shall go prepare something," she said and tried to walk past James but he stopped her.

"You shall go to bed."

"But…"

"I'll take care of Henri today."

"But, the breakfast…"

"I'll manage. We were eating before you arrived from England, you know."

"Pappy," she commented with a smile.

"Mammy," he replied, before pushing her gently out into the hallway.

She stopped halfway to her room and turned around. "James, I'm worried," she said in a soft voice, then walked back toward him.

She gave him a quick hug and walked to her room before he could even react. "_She probably expected me to comfort her_," he thought, feeling a little stupid for freezing on the spot instead of hugging her back. "_Well, she doesn't have to worry for today. I'm here_."

Both boys had an excellent day. They only caught a few fish, but swam and hiked and even gathered wild flowers for Sarah—although James denied he had participated in making the bouquet. No one heard about the sea captain, not that day or any other day for two full weeks.

Moses took Henri with him on a trip to New York to pick up printing supplies; this would help avoid unwanted meetings for a while. James and Sarah were left at the print shop, laying typesets for the next edition of the Gazette. Sarah was reading her notes as James was putting the tiles in—he was quicker at it—and they were trying to fit a picture in, one of the Gazette's unique features. "I think the picture would look better right after the title," the young man said, pushing some of the tiles around.

"I'm not sure. Why not right after the first paragraph? It's closer to the actual subject."

"Yeah, but that way there's only two lines of text on this other side. It looks—"

James' head snapped up sharply when he heard the print shop door open suddenly. Two men stood in the entrance, and one of them was the sea captain. Sarah nearly dropped the paper she was holding and she became pale, but said nothing. "Yes?" James asked, his voice cautious and authoritative.

"I came for the boy," the sea captain claimed, looking at James first, then at Sarah.

Whether it was because he mentioned the little French boy, or because James' presence gave her courage, the young Englishwoman perked up. "I believe I have already told you that you had no proof of 'ownership' for him and that you should leave before I call the guard!" she said in a harsh tone.

James looked at her, impressed, then placed himself between the captain and her as if to protect her. "I think you should leave," he said, his blue eyes icy.

"I think you should mind your own business, shrimp!" the captain barked back. He looked at Sarah, an evil smile on his lips. "Miss Phillips, is it? This is Samson Winkle, of Winkle & associates, attorneys at law."

He made sure he stressed the last words. James heard Sarah gasp and backed up one step so that he could almost touch her, whether to reassure her or himself, he was not sure however. Samson Winkle gave both journalists a nod, then said: "Miss Phillips, Mister…"

"Hiller," James growled.

The other man nodded again. "My client here came to me with a most legal claim; I have the papers right here to prove that Marcel Lefebvre had signed a contract for him, his wife and his son to work for seven years in exchange for passage to America."

Both men walked down the few steps leading to the main printing room. "I am sorry, but I will require proof of what you are claiming, sir, both regarding your profession and this 'contract'," Sarah began.

"You should watch your tongue, child! We don't need to justify anything to you!" the sea captain exclaimed.

James frowned and balled his fists. This man was going too far, insulting her like that. The attorney, sensing the situation could degenerate, chose to intervene. "I understand your cautiousness perfectly, Miss Phillips."

He handed her one of his business cards, which she took and looked at carefully. James looked as well, turning slightly toward her to see better. "And I have the contract right here as well, if you want to examine it."

James snatched the piece of paper from the attorney's hand and held it so that both Sarah and himself could read. They saw Henri's name at the same time on the contract and Sarah instinctively sought James' hand. He felt her fingers tremble and was happy that her ample skirts were hiding the fact to the two men. "I see you have thought of everything," she commented in a sour voice.

"Maybe it will teach you to let matters that don't concern you alone, missy!"

"I won't let you talk to her like that!" James exploded, before taking a step forward and swinging angrily at the captain.

The older man avoided James' fist easily, then swung back at him instinctively, connecting with the younger man's jaw and sending him a few steps back. Winkle quickly stepped between them, saying: "Gentlemen! I believe this is not the proper way to settle this matter!"

Sarah turned her attention momentarily towards her friend, making sure he was not seriously injured—although he would have a nice bruise for a few days—then turned towards the attorney, still holding James' arm both for support and to prevent him from launching himself at the sea captain's face again. "Mister Winkle, we are talking about a child, surely…" she began.

"Just tell us where the brat is!" the captain cut in.

"His parents died on the way to America," she continued, ignoring him.

"All three members of the Lefebvre family had signed, Miss Phillips. Since there is a survivor, the contract is still valid," Winkle explained.

Sarah felt tears well up in her eyes, but fought them back in. Crying would not help. She turned to the sea captain. "What use could he be to you? You put him in the hold most of the time anyway!"

"What I did or will do with him is none of your business," the captain commented.

Sarah's jaw trembled, but no tears came out. She felt James tense up and touched him to calm him down somewhat. During that time, her brain was working furiously to find a solution. "Henri's parents had to work for you to pay for their passage, had they not?" she asked.

The captain nodded slowly. Winkle nodded as well, but she saw understanding dawning upon his eyes. "So, theoretically, if proper payment was given to you…"

She let her words die to see the men's reaction. Winkle finally spoke. "May I consult with my client?" he asked.

Sarah nodded and both men moved away, back onto the entrance stairs to talk. James whispered: "And where do you think you will find such an amount?"

"I have some put away," she replied, looking at the men.

"It can't be anywhere near what they will ask for!"

"They won't have Henri," was all what she said, still looking at the men with a determined expression on her face.

"I'm glad I'm not them," he said quietly, and it encouraged her despite her wildly beating heart.

The two men returned and the attorney spoke: "My client could be interested in settling this matter if an adequate compensation is provided."

"I want this written down and signed by everyone in this room.," Sarah claimed, "Both mister Hiller and yourself will act as our witnesses.

"Of course," the man agreed.

James tried not to let show how impressed and proud of her he was. It could have given the wrong impression. She was handling things superbly! As for the amount they would ask for, well, he would work extra to get it. It could be arranged. "After discussing the matter, my client and I figured that a sum of fifteen pounds should be enough," the attorney added.

James almost choked; Sarah remained somewhat the same, but he could feel that she had tensed up even more. She mentally went through the contents of her secret box in her room, where she kept all of her treasures. She had a little over seven pounds. She did not know if James had some money put aside, but knowing him, he probably did not. This was quite bad. "What justifies such a figure?" she asked cautiously.

"Three people on board, loss of their work since two are dead, and the trouble for retrieving the brat," the captain said, cutting the attorney off.

"As you said, two are dead, and they died during the crossing. This means you did not have to provide for them. Considering how Henri still looks, you probably did not provide much for him either. Four pounds."

Sarah prayed Henri's parents would forgive her referring to them as "its" of some sort. "Four pounds? Ridiculous!" the sea captain laughed.

"It is a little low, Miss Phillips. Perhaps you would consider twelve pounds, as your arguments are true," the attorney offered.

"Five. It is already more than an adult's full passage fare."

"Ten."

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave them her best English Lady haughty look. James thought she was beautiful. "Seven. It is more than the full first-class fare for an adult, and will cover for any 'inconvenience' this 'gentleman' has suffered."

"Eight."

"Seven. Final offer."

The sea captain was about to say something, but hesitated. Seven pounds was a lot of money. He did not care much for the boy anyway; he always had been clumsy. "I want to see the money before I sign anything," he said, surprising both the attorney because he was sure he could have had more, and Sarah, who was almost certain she would not succeed with such a low price.

The young woman nodded. "I will go get it. Mister Winkle, would you be so kind as to draft a contract, in two copies of course?" she asked almost pleasantly.

Without waiting for a reply, she went upstairs to her room, not believing her luck, and unsure if she would have the strength to go through the whole ordeal before she lost control of her poor shaking hands, wild heart and her eyes, which threatened to let out torrents of tears at any second.

She found her box hidden under her bed, retrieved it, and put it on her table to sort through its contents. Under the large packet of letters from her mother, and the smaller ones containing her father's and James', she located a small velvet pouch in which she had put her savings. She emptied it on the table and counted seven pounds carefully, hoping she was right about the amount she thought she had in there. She had painstakingly gathered the money, and still added to it when she could, in hopes of starting a new print shop in the future, hopefully with James at least as a business partner. Or more, if destiny wanted it. He would never be the romantic, prince charming type, but she was ready to live with that. She shook her head and went back downstairs. Hopefully, James would not have a broken nose by now.

Which he did not. He was standing by the attorney, watching him as he wrote the contract. Winkle finished the sentence he was writing and handed the paper over to Sarah. "I believe this is agreeable?" he asked as she read.

She nodded, then handed the man the money so that he could count it in front of everyone and passed the contract to the sea captain so he could read it as well. "Yes, that'll do," he agreed, more interested in the money on the table than the paper in his hand.

All four signed both copies and the sea captain quickly gathered the money to put it in his purse. "The Lefebvre contract," Sarah demanded, extending her hand.

Winkle produced the document from a pocket in his coat and handed it over. Sarah walked to the tinder box close to the shop's fireplace and quickly burned the paper, making sure that no parts of it were still readable. She then came back toward the two men and offered her hand to the sea captain to conclude the deal. The man shook it briefly, and turned away and walked up the entrance stairs. Winkle took her hand as well, but kissed instead of shaking it. "Were you a man, Miss Phillips, I would dread meeting you in a court of law," he commented, then followed the other man out.

"I will take that as a compliment," she replied as they closed the door behind themselves.

The print shop became suddenly silent as James and Sarah stood alone in the middle of the room, looking at the door as if they expected the two men to come back in. Then, Sarah began trembling violently and her tears came out. Her legs buckled from under her and she fell gracefully sitting on the floor, her skirts billowing around her like a flower. She covered her face with her hands as sobs shook her. Alarmed, James approached her and knelt down next to her. "Sarah? What's wrong?" he asked, touching her arm gently.

She moved her hands away from her face and looked at him, trying to control herself. "It's… it's horrible!"

He stared back at her, waiting for her to talk. Her face crinkled and she wailed: "I just bought Henri!" before reaching forward for James to hold her, crying and sobbing.

Surprised and feeling awkward, he closed his arms around her, but did not tighten his grip, almost afraid to hurt her. He let her cry for a little while, then stroked her hair hesitantly. He knew how she abhorred slavery, and if she actually believed what she had just said, it must have felt horrible indeed. "You didn't buy him, you paid for his passage to America. There's a big difference," he said to her ear.

She seemed to calm down a little; the way she was holding him would have been quite enjoyable had she not been so upset. After a while, Sarah moved away from him, wiping her eyes with her hands. She gazed into James' concerned face, then saw the angry bruise on his jaw. "My poor knight in green breeches… you did not stand a chance against him," she said in a gentle voice, raising her fingers to touch him.

"I was quite angry," he replied, wincing at her touch.

He stood up and helped her do the same. "You want some tea?" he asked.

Sarah nodded. As he walked to the kitchen, she went to the counter, where the new contract was, and read it once more. Winkle was a good, conscientious attorney and had not forgotten one detail. The sea captain had agreed to take the amount and not try to get Henri, or any future wife and children, for any purpose whatsoever. The other contract did not exist anymore, so he could not claim anything. She was still trembling a little, she noticed. She had been scared of the man. For Henri, for James, even for herself. She did not want to think of what would have happened if they had refused her seven pounds.

James came back with the tea and set it on the counter. "You were very impressive. I'm proud of you," he commented, handing her a cup.

She shrugged, taking a sip of the hot beverage, but her attitude showed his compliment had pleased her. "I am not sure if I was more angry or scared," she said after a silence.

"Probably both," he replied, leaning against the counter so he faced her.

Sarah nodded, sighed, then leant on the counter, her chin in her hands. James, unsure of how to comfort her, remained where he was for a while, looking at her back and her long, red hair flowing down to one side. He stroke awkwardly the spot on her back that her hair did not cover, saying: "It's over now," in a soothing voice.

She wiped her eyes. "Henri must not know about this," she stated.

"I don't think—"

"He mustn't know. He is a child, he does not need to be bothered by such matters."

"He's not stupid, Sarah."

She turned toward him, her teary eyes fiery and her expression set. "If you had seen the fear in his eyes, you would understand."

"He will ask questions."

"The sea captain left to sail in the southern colonies and the Islands and will never come back here again."

"We don't know that!"

Sarah sighed again, and looked as if she would start crying soon. James thought for a moment, then said: "We convinced the man that he didn't need Henri and he left. That way, we don't need to precise any location where he might never even go to." He smiled. "And it doesn't tell him how you've convinced him, either."

His last words made her smile back. She picked the contract and walked to the stairway, asking him to follow her. "I will show you where I put that thing, but neither of us can take it out unless in case of… I don't know… for extreme reasons," she continued as she climbed the steps, holding the contract in one hand and her skirts in the other. "Moses and Doctor Franklin mustn't know about this either," she finished, turning around as she went up the last step.

James, who was following closely, stopped just in time not to collide with her. She seemed a little surprised to be at eye level with him, but it did not stop her for long. "Do I have your word on this?" she asked.

He nodded gravely, feeling a certain pride well inside of him because he felt they were becoming closer, at least for that. Sarah turned around again and walked to her room, not looking to see if he was following. She knew he would. Once inside her room, she went to her table and emptied her box. I will put it at the very bottom. I don't want to see that horrible thing for as long as I can," she commented, before covering it with assorted "girl trinkets" in James' opinion.

He noticed her money pouch, which was now quite empty save for a few pence on the table. "It must have taken you quite a while to gather all this," he commented as he put the pence back into the pouch.

She shrugged. "It's only money."

"Yeah, but you were obviously saving it for something."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!"

"No. I…" she blushed furiously. "It's not even certain it would work."

"What was it, your dowry?"

"JAMES HILLER!" she exclaimed as he fled the room, laughing. "Of all the insulting…!"

"It was a joke!" he exclaimed from the hallway.

"Some joke," she muttered, then saw a flash of white as he shook the empty end of his shirt's sleeve in the doorframe.

"Peace?" he asked before actually looking into the room.

She did not reply so he stepped in. Sarah was pouting prettily, her arms crossed over her chest. "I did not mean that and you know it."

He put something on the table. A few coins. "What's this?" the young woman asked, curious.

"It's all I have for now. I'll help you gather it back, and then up to whatever you're saving it for."

Her lips trembled. "But… you don't even know what it is."

"Probably some 'woman thing', considering your reaction earlier. And you probably wouldn't tell me anyway, so why bother?"

She pushed the coins away, towards him. "I cannot take this."

He pushed them back. "Sure you can."

"No, I cannot."

He put his hand over hers to stop her from pushing the coins away from her again. She looked at the two hands on the table, noticing the ink spots on his, then asked: "What if it were my dowry?"

"Any man who needs money to marry you is an idiot," he replied quickly.

Then realized what he had just said and took his hand away, red as far down as Sarah could see inside the collar of his shirt. "I think I'll go finish setting up the layout," he finally said.

He left without saying anything else. Sarah smiled despite herself. At James' words, at what they implied, at the fact that he unknowingly would give himself money if that was an actual dowry, at the fact that Henri could revert to his innocent, yet mischievous antics all over town… she put the coins in her pouch, then tucked the pouch against the pile of letters from her mother and put the box away safely in its hiding place under the bed. Then, she went back downstairs, where she passed by James to go to the kitchen. "You like wild berry pies, don't you?" she asked as she went through the door.

He looked up to see her come back wearing her straw hat and holding her shopping basket. "Sure," he replied, before looking at the layout again.

She was probably unaware of how beautiful she looked with that slight flush and bright eyes from crying and her large smile, and he was not going to make a bigger fool of himself than he already was by gawking at her. The realization of what she had just done for Henri was falling on her and she was literally beaming with happiness. He felt her walk behind him and look at the layout. "The picture goes after the first paragraph," she said.

"After the title."

"First paragraph," she insisted.

He rolled his eyes comically, but froze when she bent forward to give him a peck on the cheek. "First paragraph," he sighed, while her joyous laugh followed her all the way out the front door.

The End


End file.
